I probably don't love myself.
all i ever do is sit, write and think.
maybe you just wouldn't understand
between over and under hand
backtoss and left and right
up and down from flights
to great heights
that take you up and gone.
untill you can't see me.
listening to the tiem of your life
remenicing from that knife,
point of veiw.
wondering if you did the right thing
you start to fade
the colors go black
and you just can't.
you can't stand or think
now you're awake.
get up, take a long drink
you listen to the chimes
of the good times
to remember how things used to be.
and recall how you used to be so free?
all in times my friend.
you're starting this new trend